


The trustworthiness of old friends

by downrightpiano



Category: Final Fantasy X & Final Fantasy X-2, Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Crossdressing, Gen, M/M, Pre-Final Fantasy X-2, Pre-Relationship, Subterfuge, dresspheres, i write self-indulgent things, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:27:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downrightpiano/pseuds/downrightpiano
Summary: Baralai was quiet for a few moments. “I wasn’t supposed to meet you today.” He glanced at him, only a quick flick of the eyes. “But I… became aware that you were in the city. I had to see for myself.”“What, that I’m me?” Gippal knocked their shoulders together. “Well, I’m still me. Good old Gippal.”Gippal comes across an old friend while on Machine Faction business in Luca.
Relationships: Baralai/Gippal
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The trustworthiness of old friends

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, there are two lines of dialogue written in Al Bhed. Hover your mouse over the underlined text to reveal the English translation. If you are on mobile, click on the underlined text to get the translation.

He was in Luca on business. That’s what he told Nhadala before he left, anyway. A business owner wanted his opinion on some _machines_ and who was he to deny a client? The potential for repeat business was high with this one and it didn’t hurt that there was a blitzball tournament on at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone, right? Gippal liked to work and liked to play even more, so he was really just being efficient. Nhadala should be proud of him.

He stepped off the ship and whistled a jaunty tune. Luca was thriving even more than ever now that the Calm had arrived. It was already the entertainment center of Spira, but now it was almost bursting with people.

Blitzball was still the main attraction, with the stadium and its water sphere set up for the tournament. Even from a distance, he could see players practicing in the water. Sunlight glinted off the rippling sphere in bright flashes of light.

In addition to blitzball, a sprawling market had been set up, and Gippal planned to visit later. People of all ages and families large and small were already enjoying what was on offer. Entertainers dotted the landscape, and smatterings of applause and cheers sporadically welled up above the crowds. He made a mental note to check out all the attractions before he left Luca.

He had just enough time to check into his lodgings and settle in before meeting with the businessman. Gippal made his way from the docks into the city. His destination was a small inn run by an Al Bhed. It wasn’t as well equipped or multifunctional as one of Rin’s travel agencies, but it was clean and comfortable. Nhadala knew the guy who ran it and recommended it.

“Ah, you must be Gippal.” The innkeeper nodded. “Nhadala told us you’d show up some time today.”

Gippal grinned. “That’s Nhadala for you. Always on top of everything.” He waved a hand. “I got a meeting in a bit, so I’ll be back later.”

He made it to the plaza with plenty of time to spare, so he wandered around the area. Just as he was investigating a string of banners hanging from a wall, movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn his head.

A man moved purposefully down one of the streets connecting to the plaza. He was quick, weaving nimbly through the crowd. The man was far away enough and in the shadows that Gippal couldn’t get a clear look, but he seemed to be a blitzball player. A patch of sunlight glinted off his hair and stole Gippal’s breath. It was a shade of silver he hadn’t seen in a year.

A shout rose up behind the blitzball player and he threw a quick glance behind him. Shadows played over his face in a smattering of erratic patterns, making it impossible to pick out any distinguishing features. No matter how hard Gippal looked, he couldn’t get a clear focus on the man’s face. He’d never seen anyone other than Baralai have dark skin and silver hair at a young age, but he also never met every single person in Spira. Gippal looked again. Everything seemed to match, from the height and build to the colouring and gait. But he couldn’t imagine Baralai being caught dead in a blitzball player’s uniform, and the face was still indistinguishable.

Another shout, and a group of armed men rounded the corner of an intersection. The blitzball player broke into a run. He dodged people and obstacles with a speed and agility Gippal was very familiar with. In the span of a moment, both Gippal and the men had lost him in the crowd.

“Are you Gippal?”

The Al Bhed turned to see a middle-aged man standing behind him. He raised a hand. “That’s me.”

“I am Tomaz. Please, follow me. I’ll show you to my shop.”

As the businessman led the way to his shop, Gippal looked back one last time. The street was calm again, no blitzball player or armed men. He turned his back on the street and forcibly put the incident out of his mind. It was just a coincidence and an overactive imagination, no more.

He was antsy during the entire meeting, and nearly heaved a sigh of relief when he parted ways with Tomaz. Walking back out into the plaza, he almost expected to see the blitzball player waiting for him. Gippal rolled his eye. He had to stop being ridiculous. The trip to Luca was for business and pleasure, not for reminiscing about things in the past.

And that was how he found himself at a bar.

There was an astonishing number of bars in Luca. One only had to turn a corner or walk a block or two to find an open establishment. With the economy growing after Sin’s defeat, people found themselves with more time and money than before and not enough places to spend them. If someone wanted a drink and a place to relax, a bar was it.

Gippal did what every self-respecting Al Bhed did when presented with ample free time before a blitzball tournament: distract himself from maudlin thoughts. Ordering a local brew, he sat at the bar. He could see quite well despite the dim lighting. The establishment was less than half full and all the customers were either waiting for the tournament to start or were people who already had company. Gippal lost the urge to talk to anyone.

He worked at his beer. The meeting had gone well, and Tomaz the businessman had some malfunctioning machines in another shop across the city and asked him to take a look while he was still in Luca. Never one to miss an opportunity to poke around at machines, Gippal had agreed. If he only took a quick look, he’d still be able to get to the stadium in time for the tournament. And if the machines really were malfunctioning, he’d fix them after.

The man seemed genuinely intrigued by technology and was Al Bhed-friendly. If Gippal were to guess, he’d say the Machine Faction had earned themselves a new client. Nhadala would be so proud.

A woman slipped into the seat to his left. Gippal only meant to take a quick look out of the corner of his eye, but something about the sight piqued his interest.

She was tall. In fact, Gippal would bet that the woman was nearly as tall as him, if not as tall. She wore a long dress that covered everything except her face, hands, and feet. It was made of a billowy material, with ruffling around the hems and a belt to gather the material around a narrow waist. The boots had a flat heel, and the shafts disappeared under the hem of her dress.

The woman tilted her head to peek at Gippal from under her strange hat. It really was a strange hat. It was vaguely reminiscent of a Yevon nun’s hat in that it covered the hair, but was less structured. It had a floppy brim that fell to cover the top half of the woman’s face in shadow.

She smiled at him before turning to order a drink from the bartender.

“Hey.” Gippal leaned against the bar and nodded at her. “Here for the game or something?”

“Or something.” The woman replied in an amused voice. She quirked her lips. “Are you here for the game?”

Gippal twitched an eyebrow at her and grinned. “Or something.” He turned to face the woman fully, leaning his arm on the bar top.

Her dark skin looked warm under the dim bar lighting and her curled lips glistened a deep red. Her teeth flashed when she opened her mouth. “You look like you’d enjoy a good crowd.” Warm brown eyes lined in black twinkled at him from beneath the brim of her hat.

Gippal leaned in. “Depends on who makes up that crowd. Name’s Gippal. You?”

The bartender chose that moment to place the woman’s drink in front of her.

She held it up to her lips. “Have you been to the market yet, Gippal? I’ve never seen such a large one before. It must be exciting.”

Gippal decided not to comment on the lack of name given. “Yeah, I’ll probably go after the game. Check out the vendors and the food. Gotta do some actual work first though.”

The woman hummed. “I suppose that work involves machina?”

Gippal raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that? And you’re supposed to call them _machines_.”

“You’re Al Bhed, and most Al Bhed work with _machines_.” The woman tipped her head in such a way that Gippal could only see the bottom half of her face and smiled. “I suppose you could say that I’m here to do some sightseeing. It’s been quite a while since I’ve come to this city.”

Gippal grinned. “Is that right? I’m pretty familiar with Luca. How about I show you around after the game? We can go to that market, get something to eat, check out the entertainment.”

Before the woman could reply, the door opened. Three men wearing armour and carrying guns stood at the entrance. Conversation died off as people turned their attentions to the newcomers. The man at the front surveyed the customers. “We’re looking for a man.” He announced. “Dark skin, light hair. Last seen wearing blitzball gear.”

“Lots of people here wearing blitzball gear, with the game and all. What’d he do?” A glass squeaked in the silence as the bartender polished it.

Gippal watched one of the other two break away and make a circuit around the bar.

The leader scowled. “He’s a thief. Sneaky little bastard. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

The lackey came up to Gippal and squinted at him. “Hey, you’re Al Bhed.” He gave the woman a once-over and leered. “Dirty Al Bhed giving you trouble?”

She looked the man dead in the eye. “On the contrary. We were enjoying each other’s company.” She turned away in clear dismissal.

The man scowled. “Al Bhed scum. You’re probably in on it, aren’t you? Can’t trust any of you swirly eyed bastards. Where’re you hiding the thief, huh?”

“Whoa, hey.” Gippal held up his hands. “I got no clue what you’re talking about, buddy. I’m just here for a drink before the game. Like everyone else.”

The woman laid a hand on Gippal’s shoulder. “We hadn’t seen each other for a long time and wished to catch up. Surely there’s no harm in that?” She smiled blandly at the man.

“Hey!” The leader called across the bar. “He’s not here, Luzzo. Stop bothering the young couple and move it.”

The man grumbled under his breath before shoving his index finger in Gippal’s face. “I got my eye on you, Al Bhed. Watch yourself.”

The entire bar heaved a sigh of relief once the door shut with finality behind the three men.

Gippal huffed quietly. “Now the whole bar thinks we’re together. You okay with that?”

The woman pulled his hand towards her in a surprisingly strong grip. “You’re a good man, Gippal.” She leaned in and stared into his eye. “You were my friend once, and I hope you still think the same of me now.”

He could only look at her blankly. “What- what?”

She glanced at the door briefly. “I have business to attend to. I believe I’ll take you up on that offer to see the market after all.” She slid off the stool and brushed her lips against his ear. “”

A lock of silver hair escaped her hat and Gippal stared at it. “What-” He glanced between her hair and her face. He shook his head in disbelief.

The woman tucked the hair back under her hat. She dropped down some gil on the bar and raised an expectant eyebrow at him. In the time it took for Gippal to blink, she’d slipped out the door.

“B- Huh.” He stared after her, hoping she would come back. Gippal sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

The bartender collected the gil and chuckled. “Got you wrapped around her finger, eh?” He wiped down the bar with quick movements. “I can see why. You’ve got yourself a charming lady there, young man.”

“Charming lady… Hm, that’s one way of putting it.” Gippal sighed gustily. He drained his beer and downed the woman’s abandoned drink as well. “I’m not drunk enough for this.” Slapping down enough gil to cover his beer, he stood. “Well, gotta get to work. Machines aren’t gonna diagnose themselves.” He nodded to the bartender and stepped out.

Gippal rested his hands on his hips and squinted into the bright sky. What was Baralai thinking, running around in a dress and pissing off unsavoury types? What exactly did he get himself into? He sighed and started making his way across the city. What he needed was to look at some possibly malfunctioning machines. He’d get his answers later, if they really were meeting at the market.

The market was packed. All the spectators that crammed themselves into the blitzball stadium had poured out after the game and were indulging themselves in the food and wares being hawked. There was even a games corner for children and anyone wanting to try their luck and skill. It was more like a festival than an actual market.

Gippal surveyed the scene. Really, he should’ve asked for better instructions. Sure, market after the game, but where in the market? The place was huge, and packed with people of all shapes and sizes. Signs and other objects readily blocked his line of sight. Maybe doing a circuit would help.

He’d almost circled the market twice when a hand reached out and snagged his arm. The woman from before linked their arms together and smiled at him. “Walk with me.” With a murmur, she set off toward the food stalls.

“Baralai.” Gippal peered under the floppy hat. “I’d say long time no see, but you seem to be getting yourself into some interesting business and I’m not sure if I need to get ready for a fight or not.”

Baralai squeezed his arm. “Not here. Keep walking. We’re going to browse the food stalls, then we’re going to sit somewhere with a nice view.”

It wasn’t until they were in the noisiest part of the food stalls that Baralai spoke again. He murmured against Gippal’s ear and the Al Bhed fought the urge to shiver. “I know you must be wondering what’s going on. I had to make sure we weren’t being followed.” His eyes flicked from side to side. “We’re safe for now.”

They threaded between the stalls in a leisurely manner. Baralai looked calm and collected, but Gippal could feel the tension in his arm.

“I wanted to contact you before.” Baralai made a show of considering the market fare with a smile fixed on his face. “But I wasn’t sure if it was safe enough. I didn’t want you to be linked to me publicly, in case anything happened.”

Gippal kept an eye out for anyone that seemed too interested in their conversation. “Yevon’s gone. Or is there another group of people that wants to put a bullet in our heads? Those men that were after you, maybe?”

Baralai was quiet for a few moments. “I wasn’t supposed to meet you today.” He glanced at him, only a quick flick of the eyes. “But I… became aware that you were in the city. I had to see for myself.”

“What, that I’m me?” Gippal knocked their shoulders together. “Well, I’m still me. Good old Gippal.”

Baralai chuckled. “Yes, you’re still you. I’m glad.” Deeming enough time spent at the food stalls by some measure Gippal wasn’t privy to, they turned towards one of the more scenic rest areas. They sat on a bench near the water. It was a strategic position. From the bench, they had an unobstructed view of anyone intending to approach from the market. Behind them was open water, so anyone trying to sneak up would have to either swim or approach on a boat.

Gippal leaned back and took in Baralai’s appearance. “So, want to tell me why exactly you look like this?” He reached out and tweaked the offensive hat.

Baralai pushed his hand away. “Stop that. It’s to hide my hair.”

“And how do you explain the rest of this?” Gippal gestured at the rest of him.

The man crossed his legs and rearranged his skirt primly. “Something called a dressphere. It makes changing appearances easier than actual clothing. I’m finding it to be a great asset.”

“Dressphere? Where have I heard that before?” Gippal eyed Baralai. “I think I heard a kid mention that a little while ago. An Al Bhed kid. Who I’m pretty sure doesn’t know you.”

Baralai cleared his throat. “If you must know, this particular dressphere was in the possession of a very absent-minded individual who clearly wasn’t in need of it anytime soon.”

Gippal paused. “You mean you stole it.” He slapped his knee and chortled. “I’d pay to see that. You stealing something!”

Baralai crossed his arms and glowered at him, unimpressed. “I’m just borrowing it. He clearly didn’t need it, and I did. I’ll return it to him. Sometime.”

“Right. I’m sure you will.” Gippal chuckled again. He pushed the brim of the hat up to take a better look at Baralai’s sulking face. The brim framed Baralai’s face pleasantly, calling to attention his elegant cheekbones, the soft shape of his eyes, and the judgmental tilt of his lips. Gippal poked at a cheek. “The dressphere comes with eyeliner and lipstick?”

“Of course.” Baralai swatted at his hand. “If you’re taking the effort to disguise yourself, you might as well be thorough.”

Gippal made a thoughtful face. “I have to say, you make a really classy lady.” He tilted his head and squinted. “Can’t really imagine you in a blitzball uniform though.”

Baralai grimaced. “Please don’t remind me. It was unpleasant.”

Gippal laughed. “That’s because you never liked blitzball.” He looked at Baralai in consideration, then snickered.

The other man scrunched up his nose. It was more adorable than it should be. “Stop it. It’s not a good look on me and I’d appreciate it if you stopped trying to imagine me in such a horrible thing.”

Gippal couldn’t stop his grin. “Maybe you should show me, refresh my memory. I only got a quick glimpse when I was at the plaza this morning before you booked it.”

Baralai narrowed his eyes. “Now you’re just looking to make fun of me.” He glanced away. “Besides, that would involve taking off the dressphere. Considering our current situation, now would not be a good time.” He looked at Gippal. “I need you to do me a favour.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out a sphere. “I need you to hold onto this for me.”

Gippal took it. “A sphere? You went through all that trouble to get a sphere? Must be important stuff.”

Baralai placed his hands on his knee, looking very much the picture of a statuesque lady. “It’s footage of us in the Squad.” He calmly observed Gippal’s surprise. “It may not seem important to you, but in relation to my intentions, it can have repercussions.”

Gippal turned the sphere over in his hand. “Can I watch it? If it’s a sphere of us back in the day.”

“Not now, but when you’re alone and in private.” He held Gippal’s gaze. “Can I trust you to keep it safe?”

Gippal tucked the sphere into a pocket. “You can trust me. You know that.”

“I know.” Baralai bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I needed to hear it. The last year has been difficult.” He quirked his lips ruefully. “I’m sure it’s been the same for you.”

Gippal shrugged. “I’m used to it.” He paused. “Are you still with Yevon? Or I guess it’s New Yevon now. There were rumours of conflicts within the party recently.”

Baralai’s eyes darted away. “I am part of New Yevon, yes. And how did you pick that piece of information up?”

The Al Bhed snorted. “People still forget that Al Bhed have eyes and ears. Not my fault they forget I exist when they’re gossiping.”

Baralai was quiet for a moment. “Be careful. I don’t want you caught up in this.”

Gippal huffed. “I think it’s too late for that. You already made me an accomplice.” At Baralai’s stricken look, he lightly elbowed him. “Hey, I can take care of myself. But what about you? Stealing from people, running about in disguise. I thought you’d get a desk job or something, not whatever this is.”

“You’re not wrong. I joined the New Yevon party when Yevon fell. There’d been some changes within the party recently and I was able to make council member.” The corners of Baralai’s lips shifted. “I was very fortunate.”

Gippal looked at him appraisingly. “You’ve been busy.”

“I was adapting. A path presented itself to me, and I decided to take it.” His eyes gleamed with something vaguely disquieting. “Quite a few of my colleagues have opinions on the new chairman, and I believe there’s a way to sway the rest of the council to our side. We just need to present a compelling case.”

Realization dawned on Gippal. “It’s not just this one sphere, is it? Joining the council was only part of it. What you’re planning,” He hissed. “Involves sedition and subterfuge. They’ll kill you for that.” His heart lurched with dread.

“Only if they catch me.” Fervor shone in Baralai’s eyes. “Don’t you see, Gippal? New Yevon as it stands is exactly the same as the original. They’re still keeping secrets and deceiving people. We need a new way of thinking, and the current leadership is not that.”

Gippal wanted to hit something. “And so you go about it exactly how Yevon would? You’d be no better than the Maesters!”

“I’m doing what it takes!” Baralai’s voice spiked in agitation. “The truth must not be hidden anymore. If I have to stoop to the Maesters’ level, then so be it!”

From the market, a child squealed in delight. Raucous laughter drifted over the light ocean breeze.

“Do the ends really justify the means?” Gippal gripped him by the arm. “Baralai. Have you stopped at all to think about this? You’re risking your life to what, expose a few more dark, dirty truths? For the good of the general public, or yourself? If this is about what happened, just let it go. It was an unfortunate accident. Nothing else.”

Baralai’s arm trembled beneath his hand as the man looked at him with wild eyes.

A group of children ran by and Baralai’s hand spasmed, fisting tight. His inhale was more of a gasp as he made a feeble attempt to tug his arm away. It was a rare sight to see the other man fight for words, but there was no joy involved. Gippal felt nauseous. His friend was going down a dark path and there was no stopping him.

“It wasn’t an unfortunate accident, and you’re deluding yourself if you believe that.” It was a whisper filled with barely bridled emotion, splintering into the wind.

Gippal slid his hand down to cover Baralai’s trembling fist. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”

The Yevonite shifted so it was him gripping Gippal’s hand. In the distance, bells tolled. Baralai looked at their joined hands, face unreadable. “I have to go soon.”

“How do I find you?” The Al Bhed laced their fingers together.

“Don’t look for me. I need you and the Machine Faction to stay neutral.” Baralai beseeched him. “You’ll hear from me when it’s safe.”

“Machine Faction, huh?” Gippal twitched his eyebrows. “So you heard about that?”

Baralai hummed and raised an eyebrow in return. “”

Gippal huffed in mock outrage. “I didn’t teach you Al Bhed so you can eavesdrop on people.” He grinned as Baralai laughed quietly.

They fell into a companionable silence. Baralai’s hand was warm, and Gippal felt the familiar calluses on his palm and fingers.

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” Baralai turned Gippal’s hand over and brushed a thumb over the palm.

Gippal exhaled noisily. “Don’t lie to me. If you really were sorry, you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Baralai looked out over the waters. “I am sorry, and I must. It’s a burden I’m willing to bear. If all goes according to plan... Well.” He made a soft noise.

“Hey.” Gippal chucked him under the chin. “Don’t overthink it. Chin up. You gotta stay positive.”

Baralai made a face at him. “I’m not one of your girlfriends, Gippal. Also, great pep talk. I feel so much better.”

The Al Bhed waggled his eyebrows. “Well, everyone at the bar seemed to think we were a thing.” He whistled. “Damn, can’t believe I’m lucky enough to have such a classy girlfriend.” Placing a hand over his heart, Gippal moaned dramatically. “I don’t deserve you, B.”

His charming lady friend snorted inelegantly. “What a pair we’d make.” Baralai looked out over the ocean. For a while, his eyes tracked something over the water in the middle distance. He looked back at Gippal and untangled their hands. “I’m sorry for bringing you into this. I shouldn’t have bothered you. Goodbye.” He stood and made to leave.

“Wait!” He grabbed Baralai’s wrist before the other man could leave. “Baralai… I…” He stood as well. Seized with the knowledge that he wouldn’t see him again for a long time, he pulled the other man into a strong embrace. He whispered, throat tight. “Don’t be stupid. If I don’t hear from you, I’m going to personally drag you out of whatever hole you’ve dug yourself into and knock some sense into you. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Baralai pressed their foreheads together, nearly dislodging his hat and releasing his hair from its confines. He swallowed audibly and took a shaky breath. When he next spoke, his voice was back to its smooth timbre. “You know I can’t promise that.”

They breathed together, quiet and solemn.

Baralai whispered. “I have to go.” He gazed at Gippal like he was committing his face to memory. “Farewell.”

Gippal clasped the back of his friend’s neck in a firm grip, feeling soft hair at the nape. “But not goodbye.”

Baralai stepped back and fixed his hat, visibly steeling himself. Gippal watched him walk away, weaving amongst the crowd until he was lost behind a large banner.

Gippal grunted as he shoved a machine part out of the way before entering his tiny office. Ever since his meeting with Tomaz the businessman a couple of months ago, word of mouth had earned them more than a handful of new customers. With a burgeoning reputation, the Machine Faction was growing faster than anyone expected.

This meant they were running out of space. Their headquarters in Bikanel, if it could be called that, was getting increasingly cramped. Machines covered almost all the available space that wasn’t needed for walking. Sooner or later, they were going to have to expand or move. Gippal was hoping for a complete move, preferably somewhere with less sand. He was getting tired of finding sand in improbable places. It seriously got everywhere. He may be Al Bhed through and through, but that didn’t mean he had to like living in a desert.

A piece of paper laid on the pile of clutter that was his desk. The only reason he even noticed it amongst the mess was because it was placed neatly, square to the edge of the writing surface. He knew of no one in the Machine Faction that would do something as ridiculous and pointless as lining up a sheet of paper neatly on his desk. Gippal picked it up, turning it one way then the other. The paper was folded in half, with the outside blank. Unfolding it, he read the message within. It was written in Al Bhed with a neat hand. There were only three words.

Inspecting it further revealed no other markings or alterations.

Nhadala looked at him strangely as he burst out of his office. “What’s gotten into you now?”

Gippal waved the letter, clutched in one hand, at her. “Who delivered this to my desk? You? When was it delivered?”

Nhadala frowned. “Today’s correspondence? It was a new recruit. I’d never seen him before, but he said he was our new runner. You didn’t tell me we were hiring couriers, Gippal.”

Gippal threw his hands into the air. “That’s because we’re not! When was this delivered, Nhadala? I need to know!”

His business partner crossed her arms. “You just missed him. He left a few moments before you got in. Do we have an intruder on our hands? Should I sound the alarm? Gippal, where are you going? Gippal, we need to talk about this!”

Gippal sprinted out of the building and into the arid heat of the Bikanel Desert. A group of diggers looked up from where they were taking a break in the shade. Several hover pilots were so deep into a card game that they completely ignored him.

After fruitlessly searching the camp and the perimeter, he stomped back inside. Nhadala looked up from counting their inventory. Her goggles reflected judgmentally in the light. “Had enough of running around like a headless chocobo?”

Gippal grimaced at the invoked imagery. “What else did he say to you? What did he look like?”

Nhadala shrugged. “Average height. Dark skin. Goggles. Bandana. Overalls. The usual. Very average.”

“And?” Gippal motioned impatiently for her to go on. “Did he say anything else?”

The excavation lead tucked a fist under her chin. “No. Well, he said you hired him and were expecting communications today. He seemed like a pleasant enough fellow. Didn’t say much else.”

Gippal gestured uselessly and made a noise of frustration. “If you see that guy again or anyone you’re not familiar with, tell me right away.” He stalked back into his office and shut the door, aware of Nhadala’s judgmental stare at his back. Throwing himself into his chair, he sighed long and hard. He looked down at the letter and smoothed out the wrinkles. Reading the message again, he shook his head and chuckled.

All is well indeed.

_"All is well"_

**Author's Note:**

> Oh Baralai, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
> 
> The premise for this fic is “If Leblanc can look like Yuna while wearing her dressphere/Garment Grid, then Baralai can use one to look like someone else.”
> 
> I based the Machine Faction out of Bikanel as they haven’t moved to Djose yet.
> 
> This was supposed to be 1k words of flirty crossdressing cuteness but it exploded into 5k of espionage/subterfuge and ANGST. This is what happens when the songs you’re listening to while writing are too effective. Also my brain went ONE DOES NOT SIMPLY BECOME PRAETOR OF NEW YEVON. Omg. You guys I had to edit out so many blatant emotions. Gippal and Baralai were emoting all over the place. Also this is a lot of handholding even for close friends loll
> 
> Now have some Boromir.
> 
> Come yell at me on [my tumblr](https://siamesefightingpiano.tumblr.com/).


End file.
